A Baby for Hannah (Hannah's Heart 3) Page 14

  “I’m really glad for you,” Hannah said, coming to the end of the row and straightening her back. “Remember, though, that everything has trouble in it—even love.”

  “Oh, you sound like Mom,” Miriam said, ready to start on another row.

  “Maybe that’s because I will be one soon.”

  Miriam laughed. “Can you imagine us as mothers? I can’t. Not that long ago we were two little girls bouncing on our beds and worried about our school grades. Life changes so quickly.”

  “Did you ever like someone in school?”

  “Not really,” Miriam said, starting another row back toward the cabin. “I don’t think you did either, except for Sam. What a disaster that would have been!”

  “You didn’t speak up when I planned to marry him, so don’t be too hard on me.”

  “I guess I figured that’s what love was like. I thought you married for duty and obligation. I didn’t know it was this sweet.”

  “But Mom and Dad have a gut marriage. What gave you the idea that love was so much work and duty?”

  “I don’t know,” said Miriam, stopping to stare toward the mountain range. “It’s so beautiful around here. It’s no wonder old and wrong ideas get washed out and cleansed.” After a moment, Miriam said, “Hannah, shall I tell you something I shouldn’t?”

  Before Hannah could answer, Miriam continued, “Well, I’m going to, whether I should or not. Dennis kissed me goodbye last night. Can you believe that?”

  “With you, I can believe anything. And I hope it was appropriate.”

  “As pure as the wind-driven snow,” Miriam said, smiling sweetly. “Just a little peck on the cheek but enough to make me nearly pass out. Oh, I can only wonder what it will be like when we are married.”

  “Even roses have their thorns,” Hannah reminded. “So what made you think love was all drudgery and duty?”

  “You didn’t go home with cousin Malinda a lot, did you?” Miriam said, hoeing rapidly again. “I did during the time I was eight, nine, and maybe ten years old. I often stayed overnight, and their house was always a mess. Malinda’s mom made us work the whole time I was there. I don’t think we ever had a moment’s rest except for the few minutes before we went to bed.”

  “They were poor. At least that’s what Mom used to say. Malinda’s dad couldn’t manage a nickel let alone a dollar,” Hannah commented.

  “It was more than that Hannah. We weren’t that well off until Dad started working in the factory after we were in our teens. Yet Mom and Dad never looked like they would rather die than live. But Malinda’s mom and dad did. It was so sad.”

  “But why didn’t you look to Mom and Dad as an example instead of Malinda’s parents?”

  “I guess their unhappiness made a big impression on me. And then Mary Hochstetler started calling me Malinda’s twin. I don’t know, but it took a hold somehow. I figured that would be my lot in life.”

  “And so you never fell for a boy? Never?”

  Miriam laughed, “I didn’t want to at first, and then it just didn’t happen even when I thought I wanted it to. For a long time I saw my destiny as turning out like Malinda’s mom and I rebelled against any boy, even when Mom assured me they were decent marriage material. I didn’t want a decent marriage. That sounded so dull.”

  “What if Dennis turns out to be something you’re not expecting? You’re going so fast. Maybe Malinda’s parents started out in love like the way you feel now.”

  “Hannah, don’t do this to me,” Miriam declared. “It’s not fair. Unless you know something important about Dennis you’re not telling me, something other than your fears about Will leaving the Amish, then I don’t want to hear it. Don’t spoil this for me.”

  Hannah hoed silently for awhile and then said, “I don’t know of anything other than the possibility Dennis might follow Will in leaving the Amish.”

  “There was one moment when Dennis gave me a scare,” Miriam said. “I saw a girl watching him during the hymn singing, and when I asked him about it, he claimed they used to be engaged. When I got upset, he said he was kidding.”

  Hannah laughed. “It’s not true. As far as I know, anyway.”

  “Still, it scared me, Hannah. Do you think I’m doomed to a life of misery and drudgery if I marry Dennis?”

  “Of course not! Don’t be silly. I just don’t want you to leave the Amish faith. That would surely bring you misery.”

  “Oh Hannah, there are far worse things in the world than leaving the Amish,” Miriam said, arriving at the end of her row.

  “See?” Hannah said. “Now you are scaring me.”

  Twenty

  Mr. Brunson pulled his pickup into Bishop John’s lane late on a Saturday afternoon and parked by the barn. Jake had said this was the proper time to call when the week’s labors were almost over and the bishop would be relaxing in preparation for a day of rest. He climbed out, careful not to slam the door. The silence of the place hung over him as he walked toward the house. He squared his shoulders and continued.

  This was what he wished to do, and these were the proper channels. Mary Keim’s love would be worth the effort, and he would spend the end of his days in peace and love. It was the best choice he could make from whichever angle one looked.

  Knocking gently on the front door, Mr. Brunson stood back to wait. Quick footsteps came across the hardwood floor, the doorknob turned, and the door swung open.

  “Good evening, Mr. Brunson,” the bishop’s wife greeted him with a smile. “What brings you out tonight?”

  “I was wondering if your husband would have time to speak to me on a church matter.”

  “I’m sure he would,” Elizabeth said. “He’s in the living room waiting on supper. Why don’t you come in?”

  “I didn’t know what time to come,” Mr. Brunson said. “I don’t wish to disturb your supper.”

  “Oh, John doesn’t mind,” Elizabeth said. “And if it goes too long you can join us.”

  “Well, thank you,” Mr. Brunson said, stepping inside and following Elizabeth into the living room.

  “Mr. Brunson stopped by,” Elizabeth said as Bishop John got to his feet. She took the two young children who were playing on the floor and went into the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Mr. Brunson said, glancing toward the retreating backs. “I sure didn’t want to disturb your Saturday afternoon.”

  “You didn’t in the least. The children are used to playing elsewhere when visitors come.” John motioned toward the couch. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Brunson said, taking his John Deere cap off and laying it on the floor. Perhaps he should have left it at home, but he still wasn’t sure about these things. He could hardly be expected to show up the first time fully dressed in Amish attire.

  “So what can I do for you?” John asked, leaning forward on his rocker. “I hope none of our church members have wronged you in some way.”

  “No,” Mr. Brunson laughed. “It’s nothing like that.”

  Bishop John cleared his throat, “Is everything going well at the furniture shop with Jake? He’s a decent man, but we are all prone to mistakes. I’m sure Jake would be the first one to admit that.”

  “Jake and Hannah are an outstanding couple,” Mr. Brunson said. “In fact they are most of the reason I’m even here to speak with you.”

  “Oh,” Bishop John said, rocking gently. “Well, that’s good to hear.”

  “I have spoken to Jake about this, and he has advised me to speak with you on the matter.”

  Bishop John nodded, still rocking slowly.

  “I would like to join the Amish church—or make an application, however that’s done.”

  “You want to join the Amish church?” John asked, his rocker stilled.

  “If you will accept me, I am willing. I know I am an old man, and perhaps that’s too much effort to expend for such little return.”

  “Age has nothing to do with it. But what has brought this desire up? I
know you’ve lived around the Amish community for many years now. Are you attracted to our way of life, to our teachings perhaps? Has Jake been talking to you about them?”

  Mr. Brunson cleared his throat. “I have spoken at length with Jake about this, and I want to be clear that he has advised me to drop the matter. I’m the one who continues pushing the subject because I believe I’m in love with one of your church members. I do appreciate your culture, your people, and in particular Jake and Hannah, but I doubt if that would be enough to motivate me to take this step. The truth is, I would like to ask for the widow Mary Keim’s hand in marriage.”

  Bishop John resumed rocking gently and considered his answer. Finally he replied, “Mr. Brunson, I can’t decide things like that. No bishop or minister can. That’s a matter of the heart. Is that perhaps what Jake also told you?”

  “Well, I’m sure Jake would agree, but that’s not really the question. She is Amish, and I am not. So how do I begin a relationship with her unless I become Amish?”

  “So you have spoken with her about your feelings? Or has Jake spoken to her on your behalf?” Bishop John asked, his face intent.

  “Jake refused to speak to Mary, even though I asked if he would. He didn’t think it was right.”

  “Oh,” Bishop John said, the rocker continuing. “I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes our young men can do foolish things, even when they don’t intend to.”

  “Jake is one of the most level-headed men I have ever met,” Mr. Brunson said. “And scrupulously honest.”

  “That is good to hear.”

  “So what I’m asking is, how do you handle these situations—when an outsider wishes to join your faith?”

  “With the intention of marrying one of our members?”

  “I would hope so, although I understand there are no guarantees of that happening.”

  “Mr. Brunson, I’ve never handled anything quite like this, so I must say I’m caught by surprise. I’m also surprised that Jake hasn’t told me anything about this, since it sounds like you have had an ongoing conversation for some time already.”

  “Jake has been advising me against it, and he had no reason to doubt that I wouldn’t follow his advice. It was only this week that I’ve come to a firm decision to pursue the matter.”

  Bishop John nodded soberly. “Jake is right. And beyond that, what if you join us and Mary decides she doesn’t wish to give her hand in marriage?”

  “Then that’s a risk I would be taking.”

  “That’s an awful lot of work—learning the language, growing accustomed to our culture, and then baptism. After that you couldn’t go back to your present church without risking an excommunication. Is that a risk you are willing to take?”

  “For love, yes. And would you deny an old man a chance to love again?” Mr. Brunson asked, meeting Bishop John’s eyes. “I don’t have that many more years left on this earth.”

  “I see,” Bishop John said. “But are you sure that someone else has not already asked for Mary’s hand in marriage?”

  “No, I don’t know that,” Mr. Brunson said. “Are you aware of someone?”

  John shook his head, “No, but there are always visitors from other Amish communities coming through. In fact there is a load coming from Iowa next week. And things can happen rather quickly as our own suitors wouldn’t need to become members first. I mean, you’re looking at a year, perhaps two, before you could be baptized, and then there would be the courtship time beyond that.”

  “I would still like to try,” Mr. Brunson said. “If you have no objections. Because even a chance at Mary’s hand in marriage would be a great honor for me.”

  It took only a few seconds of silence before John said, “Mr. Brunson, I hate to disappoint you this way, but I agree with Jake on this matter. I don’t think it’s wise for you to join the Amish.”

  Mr. Brunson cleared his throat. “You’re forbidding me to join?”

  “I have to think about what is best for all concerned, including Mary Keim. It wouldn’t be right for you to join if we all know your real reason. I can’t place any of our women in that position. If there is trouble later, then I’m responsible. Mary would be the first to agree with that, regardless of how she feels about you.”

  Mr. Brunson took a deep breath, “I, of course, do not agree with that analysis. I am more than willing to show my intention to stay Amish by whatever means necessary. I am an old man, and the modern life means little to me while Mary’s love would mean the world.”

  “Then why not move back east and join one of the Amish communities there? You could come back in a few years as a member in good standing, and none of us would have any objections.”

  “And find Mary taken by some other man?”

  “Jah, you said there would be a risk, and that is the risk.”

  “So there is no other way?”

  “I could speak with the other ministers, but I doubt it. It sounds as if Jake is telling you the same things as I am, and I can’t see the other minister, Mose, saying anything different.”

  “What if I speak with Mary myself on this matter?”

  “You would attempt to lure her away from her faith?”

  “No,” Mr. Brunson said. “I could tell her of my intentions and why I am moving back east, if that is what you require.”

  “So Mary knows you that well, that she would notice that you have left?”

  “It would be for my benefit, not hers, and she does not know of my interest in her.”

  “That still leaves us where we started,” Bishop John said, rocking slowly. “Mary cannot make any promises to you of any nature.”

  “You would see to that?”

  “Jah.”

  “I see,” Mr. Brunson said, rising to go. “Then it seems I have some more thinking to do.”

  “You are welcome to stay for supper,” Bishop John said. “I’m sure Elizabeth has plenty.”

  “Thank you,” Mr. Brunson said, pulling his cap on his head. “But I think I will be going.”

  “If you wish to talk more on this, please come back again,” Bishop John said. “Our door is always open.”

  “You don’t plan to change your mind, do you?” Mr. Brunson asked, already at the front door.

  The two faces of the children peered around the kitchen door opening, looking at him.

  John shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Good night then,” Mr. Brunson said, opening the front door and stepping outside. He walked across the lawn to his truck.

  What an old fool he had been, coming to the bishop with his hat in his hand. He was allowing his feelings for Mary to completely cloud his judgment. He should have gone to Mary a long time ago and professed his love for her and asked for her hand in marriage. She wouldn’t turn him down. That same look had been in her eyes that he felt in his heart. She was attracted to him, Amish or not. Inside her beat the same type of heart the Lord God had placed in all human beings.

  Carefully he backed out of the driveway and accelerated when he got on the main road.

  In a few moments he saw Mary’s place coming up, nestled off the road, the white two-story house reflecting the slanting rays of the setting sun. She would be home tonight, and he would stop in, profess his love for her, and ask if she would consider leaving the Amish faith. Was that not a worthy price for love?

  Pulling his foot off the gas pedal, Mr. Brunson began to turn in, but before his eyes he saw the innocence of her face, the tenderness of her eyes when she met his, the inner beauty shining through her aged face. He took his foot off the brake and accelerated again. No, he couldn’t do it. He loved her desperately, and love would not harm what it adored.

  He drove with tears creeping into his eyes, wiping them away with the back of his hand. Not since Bernice and Elsie died had he cried. And apparently tears did about as much good now as they did then.

  Turning into the gravel lane he saw the lights come on in Jake and Hannah’s cabin. He parked along the edge of
the gravel by their home. Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket he blew his nose. He would stop here. He needed to talk to someone. Though they would disagree with him, they would surely understand.

  As he walked onto the front porch, Jake opened the door for him, welcoming him inside with a broad sweep of his arm. Hannah was waiting inside. They had obviously seen him coming.

  “Good evening, Hannah,” Mr. Brunson said, stepping inside. “Am I disturbing anything?”

  “No,” Hannah said. “Most certainly not. We’re always glad to see you.”

  “Is your sister still staying here?” Mr. Brunson asked.

  “No,” Hannah said. “She’s at Betty’s, settling in, as they plan to open the riding stable on Monday.”

  “That’s good,” he said, still standing by the cabin door.

  “So what can we do for you?” Jake asked. “Will you come in and sit down for a while?”

  “No, I had better not,” Mr. Brunson said. Had stopping here been a mistake also? The day was not turning out well at all. “I’m returning home from visiting your bishop,” he said with an edge of sadness in his voice.

  “Jah.” Jake tilted his head.

  “I spoke to him about joining the Amish faith…and about Mary Keim.”

  Jake was silent, waiting.

  “He will not approve my joining the church since it is so closely connected to my desire to ask Mary’s hand in marriage.”

  “Did Bishop John see any way in which it could be done?”

  “Not unless I move back east and join one of the churches there first—without telling Mary why.”

  “Oh, this is so hard for you, I can see,” Hannah said. “I am so sorry. I wish there was something we could do.”

  “I don’t think there is much that can be done,” Jake said. “Other than Bishop John’s suggestion. Are you willing to do that?”

  “I’m thinking about it,” Mr. Brunson said. “Would you pray for me?”

  “Most certainly,” Jake said. “Prayer is always the best thing we can do.”